Possibilities
by Flute Chick
Summary: "But I'm certainly nothing special." "But you are," she protested, which caught me off guard. Here I was, speaking to her like she was normal, and she was acting normal, too. What happened to Loony Lovegood?


**This is sort of eighth year. I think. But more importantly: MY FIRST DRUNA FANFIC!**

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I scowled, trying to figure out how I'd agreed to get on this date with Loony Lovegood.

_Flashback_

"_I bet you I can eat ten chocolate frogs in thirty seconds!" Blaise grinned. _

"_That's impossible. When you lose, you have to . . . send a signed love letter to the Weaslette."_

"_And when I win, you have to go on a date with Lovegood," he grinned._

_End Flashback._

Oh. Right.

"Well, what would you like to do?" I asked, trying to be as polite as possible. I had to make this convincing or Blaise would make me do something worse.

"Well, there's this one place I've always wanted to see. Harry told me about it—I've always wanted to see the inside of the Shrieking Shack." I stared at her like she was insane (not that she wasn't) and could do nothing but nod.

"How do you suppose we get there?"

"We just have to touch a knot at the bottom of the Whomping Willow. Then a passage will open and we can go through." This hardly seemed like a place for a date. But she was Loony, after all. She tossed a rock at a certain knot on the tree. The whipping branches stilled, and an opening at the base of the tree was visible. We climbed through the dark tunnel, and I didn't notice that she was holding my hand the entire time. We'd made it to the Shack after who knows how long. It was like a normal house—but with no windows, and everything was shabby and mauled. I remembered overhearing something along the lines of Professor Lupin having gone here during the full moon. Well, that made sense, as there were tons of huge claw marks on the walls and furniture.

"It's awful," she said suddenly, wiping a bit of dust off of a shelf.

"Then why did you bring us here?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"Hm? Oh . . . Well . . . I always wondered what it looked like. And I supposed that you might want to see it too. And it's not always the looks that matter, I suppose—the meaning behind it more than anything is nice. For this, it's redemption—a werewolf getting their own chance. For another example, you looked like you were only asking me out because of a bet with Blaise, your friend. But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy it anyway," she said. I had to stand for a minute to understand what she'd just said in that lilting tone of hers.

"Uh—I—I'm sorry," I said, stuttering, feeling so embarrassed that I wished I could crawl through the floorboards and not be seen.

"Don't be. This is the first date I've been on, after all, and who knows? It could have been with worse people." _Was that a compliment, or an insult?_ I decided to go with compliment.

"Like who," I muttered. I hadn't meant for her to hear, but she had.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't be excited to go on a date with Blaise. He's a little too . . . loud?" she phrased it like a question. Most girls would die to go on a date with him. But, seeing as he was my best mate, I sort of understood what she meant. Blaise, once he started talking . . . didn't stop.

"I suppose I understand _that_," I chuckled. "But I'm certainly nothing special." Death-Eater wannabe who hadn't killed a soul—and got his life saved by Potter, Granger, and the Weasel. That sounded heroic and amazing, now, didn't it?

"But you are," she protested, which caught me off guard. Here I was, speaking to her like she was normal, and she was acting normal, too. _What happened to Loony Lovegood?_ She continued.

"You aren't like other people, Draco. You were born and raised to be just like your father. You were spoiled beyond belief—don't deny it—and yet at school things were different, weren't they, right from the start. You had to work to get want you wanted (most of the time) and I'm sure that frustrated you. It's not very nice to be pushed aside by the heroes, just because you're not brave enough . . . wouldn't you agree?" I frowned.

"How would you know?"

"I've been there—though not in the way that you could imagine. First year, my best friend was Ginny Weasley. She was my only friend as well—and she got kidnapped by the Dark Lord. How fun could that be? She got more popular that year, and starting hanging out with other girls too . . . not as much with me. Up until my fourth year, I'd say most of my time was spent in the library. But I watched things pass by. People called me Loony Lovegood—you included—all because I think differently. Even people in my own house shunned me—and we're supposed to be the open-minded ones," she said, a wry smile on her face, "But people don't always like things that are different. I do. I like thinking of the things that no one else sees and can't always prove—they are the most fascinating. I learned plenty. You're more innocent than people give you credit for, you know—that's why I agreed to the date, even knowing. You might have seen the war, and you might have joined the losing side, but you never killed anyone, even when ordered to. And that was brave of you. And different, too." I froze. She had better not mention what I thought she was going to mention. Not Dumbledore . . . not her, in the dungeon.

"I didn't kill, but it wasn't because I was brave. In fact, it's the exact opposite, you know. You were brave—siding with Potter, going against the Carrows, escaping the mansion . . . I was a coward. I couldn't do anything when Granger was being tortured by Aunt Bella, and I certainly didn't try. And even now I can't get the courage to try to be civil with anyone new—Blaise is the only one I ever talk to nowadays. Everyone else ignores me."

"Besides me, you mean," she quipped, an almost amused look on her face. Then a smile grew on it—a real smile, not just her mouth while she lightheartedly spouted nonsense about Nargles and stared out through half-lidded eyes. Her blue eyes—like the sky on a cloudless day—were bright and open, and I felt myself smiling back without even realizing it.

"Why don't we head out? I'm sure it's getting late," I said, not taking my eyes off her.

"Of course." We then walked out, hand in hand—her thin fingers were like cool silk—and while we headed through the dark tunnel, I turned and screwed up what little courage I had.

"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday?" She grinned even wider, showing off perfect white teeth.

"I'd love to. Should we meet at the gates, or in town?"

"At the gates, if you'd like."

"That would be perfect." I smiled. We headed back to our dormitories, and I met Blaise in the common room. He seemed surprised to see I wasn't glaring at him.

"Hey, how was it?" he asked, slightly worried about my sanity no doubt. I grinned smugly.

"Good, actually. In fact, I've got another date to Hogsmeade out of it," I told him, and I headed off to bed, dreaming of blue skies and strange, small creatures that I didn't know exist. However, they might have—the world was full of possibilities, and Luna was definitely one of them for me.

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**Well? Like it? I'm not too good at romance, but I sure do like this pairing . . . Tell me what you think!**

**Flute Chick**


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